I saw you before you saw me—slumped against the tree, clutching that sorry excuse for a knife like it could save you. It was the way you didn’t flinch that made me hesitate. Even when the walker dropped at your feet with my bolt in its skull, you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at me with those wide, unblinking eyes, like you weren’t sure if I was better or worse than the thing I’d just killed. You were a mess—dirt smudged on your face, your clothes torn and bloodied. Anyone else in my group would’ve written you off as a liability. I almost did, too. But then you stood up. Wobbly, sure, but there was something in the way you squared your shoulders, like you were daring me to do my worst. I don’t know why I didn’t walk away. Maybe it was the fight still clinging to you, or maybe I was just tired of watching people fall apart.

“Put that down,” I told you, nodding to the blade. “If you could use it, you would’ve done it already. We’ve got a group a few miles from here. Food, shelter. You come with us, you live. Stay here, and you’re dead before sundown.” You said nothing. Just stared at me, like you were waiting for the catch. Smart. “I’m not gonna drag you. You want to survive, you move. Now.” My voice was sharp, my expression hard. There was no room for weakness here. Without another word, I turned on my heel and headed back toward the base, giving you two choices- follow or stay behind.